Ied
IED
My legs like steel pistons
when I ran, winning gold medals
for galloping ovals.
Lean, hard, taut,
strong struts for farm work;
pivot points for the Twist, Virginia Reel,
or whirling my girl in a waltz.
Twenty-mile marches with fifty-pound pack
leading my company
over rugged mountains and through
waist-deep swamps.
Legs that led our company on
the silver bird and then off.
In to the dirt, dust ,heat
of the hell of Iraq.
Leading the patrol
slowly putting one foot
in front of the other,
feeling for the enemy.
A loud boom, a thunderclap.
The sudden stab of pain,
heat, burning in my legs.
Then, sudden darkness.
I saw myself racing, legs
carrying me across the finish line
first in every race.
Dancing with my girl.
I came to in a soft bed.
Looked down the white sheet
To where it dropped
To meet the bed.
Copyright © Oliver Mckeithan | Year Posted 2016
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